"Let us roast them," said Barty. "Roasted eggs make you feel just like a picnic."
Barty drew nearer and next moment gave a shout
Man Saturday gave him a cunning little look and then began to be very busy indeed. He ran and brought more sticks and leaves and Barty knelt down and blew the tiny flame until it grew into a bigger one, and then he fanned with his hat until the chips and twigs were snapping.
In a few minutes there was fire enough to cook anything and then began the breakfast making. It was like a picnic. They put the eggs in the hot sand to roast and found some crystals of salt dried in the crannies of the rocks. Man Saturday brought some young cocoanuts and some of the roots that were like a potato, and they were roasted too. Man Saturday ran about chattering and imitated everything Barty did. He seemed quite delighted with the idea of roasting things in hot ashes, and when Barty and the Good Wolf went together to their swimming pool to have a bath while the breakfast was cooking, he sat beside the fire and watched it, with his arms hugging his knees and his eyes twinkling. "He always looks as if he were thinking very hard indeed," Barty said. "Perhaps he is thinking now how queer it is that a piece of glass can set things on fire. I dare say he never saw fire before."
Barty splashed about splendidly in the clear green water of the swimming pool and before his bath was ended he could swim ever so much better than he had swam the day before. He came out of the sparkling water all rosy and laughing with delight. But when he was putting on his clothes he stopped with a stocking half way on and began to think.
"It is very queer," he said in a puzzled voice, "but I keep thinking of something and I don't know what it is I'm thinking about."
"That's queer," said the Good Wolf.